Spice and Revenge (The Sicilian Sins)

Chapter One

Lorena

“We’re here,” the cab driver announces as the car comes to a slow stop. But he doesn’t have to tell me, because I already see the large gates of the estate before us.

Nobody else in Sicily could own such a grand building except for the Vitale family.

“These Vitale,” I hear the driver grunt. “They don’t let cabs into the compound. Who do they even think they are?” His voice sounds bitter.

I have a feeling he doesn’t like them very much. Seconds later, he confirms my thoughts. “I applied for a driver role here last year. It was given to someone whom I’m very much more qualified than,” he says.

It seems like someone is holding a grudge.

“Yeah, okay,” I drawl, pushing the car door open. “Thank you.”

“Good luck,” the driver says, eyeing me with an empty gaze. “You’re going to need it for whatever you’re going to do inside there.” I shiver at his words before stepping down from the car.

My flats crunch against the concrete floor as I drag my suitcase behind me. As I approach the giant gates, a middle-aged man in a security uniform approaches me.

“I am Lorena Romano, the new chef,” I introduce myself to him. He looks at something on his tablet screen before looking at me again. I glance down and realize it’s a picture of me, the one on my portfolio.

“Come,” he grunts before leading me to the gates. He gestures to another man in the security tower, and the gate slides open.

I already knew that the Vitale family is the richest in Sicily, but nothing prepared me for how magnificent their home would be. The estate is massive, a tall, magnificent building. The roads leading to the house are lined with tall trees that sway in the wind.

“We have to search your bag,” he says, pointing at my large suitcase. Okay. I was not informed about this. However, I give him my suitcase.

I just hope he won’t go through my underwear section. He takes the bag from me and enters the security room. I chuckle inwardly as he runs the bag through an X-ray scanner.

Of course, they have a freaking scanner. Why would I think he would search my bag manually? And who the hell has an X-ray scanner in their home? Those things are only reserved for airports.

“All good. Follow me,” he grunts again.

I run my hands down the front of my dress, inhaling a shaky breath. I follow him as he leads me to a golf cart.

I admire the rest of the surroundings as he drives me to the main building. As we approach the front, I see a tall, middle-aged woman standing on the front porch.

The cart comes to a stop and we both come down. Taking my suitcase, he walks to the front door while I trail behind him.

The woman steps forward to meet us. Her head is held high, and her greying hair is pulled back into a simple bun. She is dressed neatly in a plain black dress and matching black pumps. As she strides forward, confident and poised, her shoes click on the concrete floors.

“Thank you, Emilio,” she says, her voice low but with a hint of authority. “You may leave now,” she adds after a moment before turning back to face me, her expression unreadable. He nods stiffly before leaving. She waits until he vanishes from view before introducing herself.

“I am Nina, the head of house affairs,” she says, stretching her hand out for a handshake. “And you must be Lorena.”

“Yes, I am,” I say, offering a small smile. A young man I didn’t notice was with her comes forward and takes my suitcase from me. “Take it to her room,” Nina says to him, before turning to me. “Come this way, please.”

With that, she turns and walks away, heading towards the entrance of the house. I follow closely as she leads me through the impressive entrance hall, its marble floors gleaming under the soft glow of the chandeliers.

“This is the formal living room, adorned with exquisite antique furniture and delicate tapestries. It's where the family comes together for meetings or important gatherings,” she says.

The living room is massive and beautiful. The high ceiling has intricate designs of carved wood, with a crystal chandelier hanging from it. Glass furniture sparkles under the bright lights.

The paintings on the wall look expensive enough to pay for the entirety of my culinary school fees. At the opposite end of the living room is a staircase spiraling upward to the second floor.

I follow Nina as she guides me through the dining room. The dining table is long and could hold up to twenty guests. It is set with fine china and pretty silverware.

We step into the grand kitchen, and my mouth almost salivates at the sight of it. The granite countertops are smooth and glossy, gleaming with polished quartz.

A magnificent marble island takes center stage, perfectly complementing the custom cabinetry carved with an intricate design that matches the cabinets around the room.

There’s a white gas stove with six burners and a square-shaped electric stove with a ceramic top, as well as a top-of-the-line induction cooktop and professional-grade gas range stand ready for action.

My hands twitch with excitement as I take in the rest of the appliances in the room. I'm impressed by its sheer luxury.

The room is equipped with cutting-edge appliances, like a smart refrigerator with a touchscreen that obviously has voice command features and a sleek built-in espresso machine.

Cooking here will definitely be fun, and great for making content.

“This is the heart of the house, where your culinary magic will unfold. It's fully equipped with state-of-the-art appliances and enough space for you to work. You will also have sous-chefs assist you in preparing these meals,” Nina says, letting me digest the scenery before me.

After that, she leads me to the grand library, and then we move towards the stairs. As we reach the upper floor, Nina leads me past several doors to my bedroom.

“This will be your bedroom. We have furnished it with a few necessities. We want you to feel at home here.”

I can't help but express my gratitude. “Thank you so much for showing me around. The house is simply breathtaking, and my bedroom is more than I could have imagined.”

Nina’s smile is guarded as she says, “The tour isn’t over yet. Follow me.”

As we both walk down the stairs, she begins to speak again, her expression now serious. “Before we proceed further, there are important things you need to know. I am sure you already know that the boss, Mr. Vitale, has a reputation for being not just strict but also quite demanding.”

I nod in agreement, my mind flashing back to the extensive research I did before applying. The Vitale household wasn't for the faint of heart. Turnover rates were sky-high, thanks to the strict standards that workers must uphold. Many chefs had been unceremoniously shown the door for failing to meet expectations.

I’m guessing that’s one of the reasons I was chosen relatively without competition.

I was so sure they had made a mistake when their call came in because I didn’t believe they would pick me, a chef with less than five years' experience and no Sicilian roots, over countless homebred, seasoned professionals.

But perhaps luck was on my side, because here I am, receiving my first briefing, and so far, so good. At least, I hope so.

Nina continues, her words measured. “One of his rules is that every meal should be served precisely on time,” she emphasizes. “He values punctuality above all else and expects every dish to be ready at the exact moment he expects it.”

We walk into the living room as she continues.

“You are expected to use only the freshest ingredients to prepare your meals. We have a gardener who sources this local produce daily from our garden and the local fresh food market. We also have a personal shopper who comes twice a week, and when he arrives, we will get you acquainted.”

Nina goes on with a stern tone, her brows furrowing. “And experimentation on meals is strongly discouraged. The Vitale prefer classic recipes and traditional Sicilian cuisine. That's non-negotiable, but I am sure you already know this,”

I nod, recalling the interview where this was drilled into me. “Yes, I do,” I reply, trying to match her seriousness.

“Good. It was the main reason the last chef was fired. He kept messing up the Sicilian dishes.”

Damn, this is starting to feel more like a prison sentence than a job , I think with an inward groan. But due to my anonymous influencing, I haven’t been able to get any real endorsement deals lately. Who wants to partner with a ghost? I was running short of money, and if I didn’t take up something fast, I’d be back to square one.

“There is a strict dress code for staff members,” the woman continues. “He always insists on a formal and professional appearance. You'll be expected to wear a chef's uniform and maintain a polished and presentable appearance throughout your working hours.”

I am not shocked by this information. Every housekeeper I have met since I got here, including Nina, is dressed impeccably. It almost feels like an office instead of a home.

“Lastly, discretion is highly valued. As a live-in chef, you will have access to the family's private lives. It's vital to maintain confidentiality and respect their privacy at all times.”

As we step into a smaller adjoining room after the living room, we are met with a line of staff members, all looking at me with smiling faces.

“Attention, everyone!” Nina says. “I would like to introduce our new live-in chef, Lorena. Please give her a warm welcome.”

Unlike Nina, who is formal and reserved, the rest of the houseworkers seem friendly. They all smile and wave at me. I feel the tension on my shoulders ease a little bit.

I listen attentively, trying to keep up with all their names as Nina introduces all of them. Enzo, the butler. Rosa, Luca, and Maria, the housekeepers. Antonio, the gardener.

I am unable to keep up as Nina introduces the rest of the staff, including the housekeeping assistants and maintenance personnel. Each person warmly welcomes me with smiles on their faces.

I can’t help but feel that this job will be my best one yet.

After the introductions are done, I watch as they all walk out of the room until Nina and I are the only ones together yet again.

“The next and final stage should be your introduction to the Vitale family. However, the twins, Fabio and Aurora, are away on vacation. The youngest, Carmela…” Nina trails off for a few seconds before speaking again. “Well, she just got back from school, so she won’t come down to meet you now.”

For some reason, I get the vibe that the youngest one doesn’t deem it important to come down just to see the new chef.

“So, you will only be meeting the boss. He is in a meeting now, but he will be with you shortly. Wait here,” Nina says.

“Thank you, Nina,” I greet her again. She offers me a small smile before turning to walk out of the room. I exhale a deep sigh, relaxing into the seat. But I remember the boss could come in anytime soon, so I abruptly sit up.

The last thing I want is to be fired on my first day.

Silence and tension hang thick in the air for several long seconds as I wait for the boss to show up. As the seconds stretch into minutes, my nerves get steadily worse. The suspense becomes unbearable when I realize I have to pee.

“Shit,” I mutter. “Not now…” Unfortunately, my bladder is a respecter of no man. My hands shake with anxiety as I grip the edge of the sofa. My fingers dig into the fabric as sweat beads on my forehead. I can hear my heart thundering against my ears.

What if ‘the boss’ spends up to an hour before coming out to meet me? I huff, imagining how long it would take two old men in an office to have a meeting.

Can I hold my pee until then? I can't take it anymore. I’m going to die here. Or worse, pee on myself on my first day at work.

Stop being dramatic and look for a restroom , a voice in my head whispers.

I rise from the sofa. Since Nina clarified that I stayed put, I realize I will have to sneak to the restroom without asking for directions.

I open a door at the back of the room, thinking it is a restroom, but it seems to be leading to another section of the house. Gosh, just how big is this house? The hallway is dark, and I wonder why I was not given a tour of this area. However, that is not my concern. I just pray there’s a restroom somewhere around here.

My hope dwindles as I continue to walk aimlessly, with no restroom in sight.

I should head back , my inner voice whispers.

That would be a good idea, but I need to make sure I check all the rooms first. As I continue down the hallway, I begin to hear moans. They are soft at first, but they get louder as I draw closer and closer.

“Oh, please,” the breathy moan rings out.

The last door on my left is half-open, and I know the sounds are coming from there.

I should definitely turn back now, but I don’t. My legs move forward despite my common sense screaming at me to stop. I finally come to a stop in front of the door.

The lighting inside the room is dim, but I know what I see. It is a wine cellar, and in the middle of the room, a girl is holding the shelf in front of her as she’s being taken from behind.

She is naked, and when I glance at the floor, I recognize the familiar housekeeper's uniform sprawled there.

Her moans fill the room, but the only thing I can focus on right then is the guy behind her, shirtless with his pants down.

From the side, I see the profile of his handsome face and the outline of his muscular body. He runs his thumb over the curve of the girl's ass, and she moans loudly again. His hips begin to move, and erotic slapping sounds fill the room. I close my eyes tight and open them again.

And my gaze meets his.

His eyes are dark and deep brown, framed by thick lashes and full lips. His wet hair falls over his eyes like a curtain, but it does nothing to mask the smoldering gaze he gives me.

He thrusts faster, and I squirm. My breathing picks up speed. All I can think about is how I imagine myself in her place. Okay . I need to get out of here.

I stumble backward and run down the hall. I open the door and walk out of the hallway.

I heave a sigh of relief when I see that the room is just the way I left it. As I sit down, I try to shove what I just saw at the back of my head. I don’t even remember that I have to pee. I can’t help but wonder who he was. From the way his muscles are ripped and muscular, I assume he is a bodyguard, a security guard, or something of the sort.

That is when I snort. Two workers are having sex on duty. They are lucky I am not a snitch.

My full bladder is now forgotten as I prepare myself to meet the boss.

After what seems like hours, I hear Nina’s voice as she approaches.

“Yes, Don. She is waiting for you.” I hear a male voice and I abruptly stand to my feet as two figures enter the room. My breath hitches in my throat as I lock eyes with the man I just witnessed a few moments ago pounding into the naked, screaming lady from behind.

“Sir, this is Lorena Romano, the new Chef.”

God, no. Please no. Anything but this.

“Lorena, this is Mr. Leonardo Vitale, your new boss and the head of the Vitale family,” the introduction lands like a punch to the gut.

Damn it.